No ship supplies of any kind may be stored near an airlock, where they could be jettisoned by accident or by sabotage. This is especially important vis-a-vis the ship’s supply of toilet paper.
No non-useful alien species will be permitted entry, not even if it is judged “cute” and “absolutely harmless” and the crew desire to keep it as a pet, for experience shows that even the fluffiest little furballs and cheerful, red beachball-like critters either multiply or grow at an alarming rate.
A shipboard subculture of sexual permissiveness will be not only tolerated, but encouraged – as will a general taboo against intimate congress with beings from other species. Any such human-non-human couplings shall be reserved as the exclusive privilege of the starship captain, and I will only indulge such impulses if it is absolutely clear that such a fling entails no risk to my health, either mental or physical.
Itwill immediately be STARFLEET policy to allow co=ed showers as seen in STARSHIP TROOPERS). In addition to improved personal hygeine, coed showers will lead to increased libido and better performance among the male members of the crew. However, alien species will not be allowed to paricipate, unless:
the species has a sexulainterest in humans
-females of that species have green skin
Vulcan-human socializing in the showers will NOT be permitted!
189: All members of my crew will be required to have at least a bachelor’s degree in 20th century Earth history, language, and pop culture. Studies have shown that 58% of the encounters experienced by the average starship are based on some aspect of 20th century Earth.
Any crew member who is seen slinking around holding his arm or shoulder and who keeps tersely replying to requests to let other crew members see what is under his hand ("I told you, I’m FINE) will be shoved out the air lock before the alien bite, weird growth, symptom of space Ebola etc has a chance to kill off huge chunks of my crew.
My ship will have an Aural Engineering department who’s job is to make sure that my ship, my weapons, my transporter etc. are all equipped with the latest, coolest sound effects and theme music.
When I encounter a primitive new society, I will bring into effect the Penguin Directive. I will give the civilization the technology to lead themselves into a golden age of peace and prosperity, and the technology to wipe themselves off of the face of their planet. I will then return in ten years, where one of three things will have occured:
They have worked together and now live in peace and prosperity. I will welcome them to the club as allies.
They have reduced their planet to a scarred waste ground. In this case I will strip the planet of resources
They will have developed both technologies abouit the same and live in a state of nervous peace enforced with big weapons. I shall leave and not come back until situation one or two has panned out.
You know those fake testicles 20th century truck drivers used to hang underneath their hitch? I’m going to mount a giant pair underneath the fantail of my shuttle bay.
Tripler
And my bridge’s conference room will have a gun rack in the rear window.
A computer’s voice is important. It’s comforting to have a producer’s wife do the voiceover, but at times of ‘red alert’, I’d rather have something a little more inspiring vs. comforting. The last thing I need in combat is to feel comfortable. Give me R. Lee Ermey as a voiceover, numbnuts!
187{B} How the computer says it will be equally important. The last thing I need in a time of crisis is a cool, uninflected female voice smugly intoning, “Hull. Breach. In Sector. 9. D. Structural. Integrity. Failure. Imminent. In. T. Minus. 15. Seconds. And. Counting. 14. Seconds…” A trifle more urgency and profanity will be programmed in, something along the lines of, “There’s a bloody great gaping hole in the fucking afterdeck! Plug it with an anonymous overweight extra, for Christ’s sake!”
Oh yeah, and the computer won’t be called Mother, either. There will be enough Freudian symbolism already, what with sweaty he-men brandishing large weapons and crawling along dark, damp and dripping access vents in pursuit of creatures that look oddly like vaginas with teeth and legs without stooping to that, thank you very much.
Our Comm system will be Pay-As-You-Go. None of this getting stuck in a bad contract with out of date equipment and monthly overage charges of 11.9 billion Federation credits for going over our plan minutes.
When we encounter horrible villains on a planet, we will not encase them in some weird 2-d crystal structures and eject them into space. Sooner or later they will show up on another planet and have to be dealt with all over again.
If the last hope of our Federation is a 12 year old boy who has only ever piloted a fighter in a video game, we will consider ourselves fucked and start moving our stuff to a new home planet.
Except in rare instances, robots do not need to be able to talk or look human. My ship will have a minimum of talking robots period. My crew does not need to feel empathy for freaking robots.
When boarding an unfamiliar alien craft, whomever is the one that can’t help themselves and insists on touching things that make the ship go active can stay on the damned ship and be eaten by the aliens coming out of stasis if they like playing with it so much.
…all strshipcommanders and XOs will be trained in the use of:
-Tommy Guns
-1930’s manual transmission cars
-Rotary-dial telephones
in addition, sexual contacs with the inhabitants of “1930’s Chicago-type planets” shall be encouraged.
